


"Well, why the heck not?"

by until_the_earth_is_free



Series: The Littlest Ships That Could (Hannibal Edition) [2]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: F/F, First Kiss, Fluff, Fluff and Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-15
Updated: 2014-04-15
Packaged: 2018-01-19 13:26:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1471495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/until_the_earth_is_free/pseuds/until_the_earth_is_free
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alana is very tired and Beverly gives her a lift.<br/>They end up drinking beer together and talking about Star Wars.</p>
            </blockquote>





	"Well, why the heck not?"

**Author's Note:**

> Kabloom all the way.

 

 

"Start, you fucking useless thing," Alana muttered, jamming and twisting her car key aggressively, hoping to provoke the engine into starting. Her car gave out a depressed moan in reply, before switching off altogether.

"Fuck."

This complication was really not something that Alana needed today. After yet another day of fruitless searching for the Ripper and a sexually tense situation with Will Graham, who appeared to be becoming more and more unstable by the day, after yet another day of frustrating and frustrated pep talks from Jack, after yet another day of persistently obnoxious students-

This was really not something she needed today, at ten o'clock at night, when she was so exhausted her eyes stopped focussing.

"Hey, Dr Bloom?" spoke a muffled female voice from her left.

Alana blinked but kept staring catatonically at her steering wheel, praying for whoever was speaking to give up and go away.

"Do you need a lift somewhere?" the voice continued.

Now that did sound enticing, as long as she kept it together until she got home. Looking up at the owner of the voice, she discovered that it was one of the forensic techies, Agent Katz or something, standing next to her car, one hand on her cocked hip. With a grateful smile, Alana unbuckled her seatbelt and got out of the car and followed Katz through the parking lot.

"Where is it you need to go?" asked the agent cheerily as they both got into a rather battered and perfunctory-looking station wagon.

"Home," Alana sighed, settling her elbow on the arm rest and staring out of the window.

"And where would that be?" inquired Katz, without a hint of irony.

Alana flushed and gave the techie her address, before collapsing back into her state of mental passivity. One of the god-awful things about being a psychiatrist was that she knew exactly how unhealthy her coping techniques were but couldn't find the energy to stop. It seemed that all her energy was spent on making sure everyone else was fundamentally sane and it was getting harder to help herself beyond the critical psychoanalyst voice constantly picking at her faults.

"You okay?" Beverly asked, glancing over to the silent woman sitting in her passenger seat.

"Are any of us okay, doing what we do?" Alana replied with a lacklustre laugh.

Beverly reacted with a hesitant chuckle, not entirely sure whether that was the correct response.

~O~

Fifteen minutes of what felt like awkward silence to Alana but probably felt pretty comfortable to Beverly, who was tapping her fingers against the steering wheel to the beat of the radio, they arrived in an empty parking space right in front of Alana's apartment block.

"Dr Bloom?"

Alana looked up sharply from the empty space she was staring to.

"Yes?"

"We're at your address," Beverly informed her.

"Right." Alana unbuckled her seatbelt and got out, mentally shaking herself by the shoulders.

"Well, thanks," she said to the agent, who was presently looking rather concerned.

"Are you sure you're alright?" Katz asked. "You know, you can just say something if-"

"Do you want to come in for a drink?"

"Sure."

~O~

Alana had no idea what she was doing. An hour ago, she would have done anything to have just apparated home and stayed in bed until the end of the world, but for some reason she had felt more relaxed around Beverly and was now compelled to keep talking to this agent about the merits of the most recent Star Wars movies on her couch over beer.

"Coming from a family of brothers," Alana said, kicking off her shoes and tucking them so she was cross-legged on the cushion. "I've been indoctrinated to believe that any adaptation beyond the original trilogy is blasphemy of the highest proportions."

Beverly snorted.

"But," Alana continued, raising a finger. "Being the contrary devil's advocate that I am, I actually ended up buying my oldest brother a poster for _The Phantom Menace_ for Christmas a few years ago."

"Really?" Beverly laughed. "How did he take it?"

"He burnt it."

Beverly gave out a hoot of laughter, her eyes wide. It seemed that when Beverly Katz laughed, it wasn't just a sound but a whole movement, like the laughter was rippling down through her spine and filling her entire body with mirth.

Perhaps she had been staring a bit too long because suddenly the laughter stopped, to be replaced with:

"you okay, there?"

Alana smiled weakly. Will had been so stressed lately and Jack had been so overworked. Even the ever-collected Hannibal Lecter had gained bags under his eyes in the last few weeks. Alana loved her ex-mentor to bits, but it was very exhausting to be around him, to put on a show.

Sometimes she would much rather be Alana Bloom than an actress playing herself.

"Will's not doing well," Alana replied, twisting the question so she didn't have to answer it properly, using Will as a distraction.

Oh God, why did she keep having to analyse her every thought?

Cutting across the internal voice of her bratty psychoanalyst side, she continued,

"I'm really worried about his mental state and I don't know why Jack-"

"Hey, Dr Bloom, do yourself a favour and shut up about Will Graham for a bit."

Alana wasn't quite sure how to reply to that.

"You're always prioritising Will over yourself," Beverly carried on. "Maybe you should start putting your needs before his."

"But he's so-"

"I know, Alana. It's not your fault. You don't have to "fix" him. You don't have to do anything."

Well, that was a refreshing take on the constant conflicting demands being thrown around in the past month. But perhaps Alana still looked sceptical because Beverly put her bottle down on the coffee table with an exasperated expression and said,

"Will doesn't need to have you as his girlfriend. What he needs is proper psychiatric help, which Dr Lecter is giving him. There is nothing you can do by feeling guilty."

Gossip sure was passed around the autopsy table fast.

After what seemed like an unbearably long silence, Alana said,

"I know."

"Do you?"

"Yes!"

Beverly smiled and tilted her head back.

"You are a really remarkable woman, you know that?"

Alana glanced down to her lap, feeling that weird kind of discomfort that she couldn't figure out if she wanted to keep feeling or not.

When she looked up, Beverly's eyes seemed a lot closer than they had been before. But before she could register the fact that the agent was leaning over at least two feet further than before, Alana found that their lips were a lot closer than they had been before.

A lot closer.

And as she closed the gap between their mouths, Alana Bloom discovered a new kind of comfort that she knew she never wanted to stop feeling.

~O~

Breathing shakily, Alana whispered,

"you know, it's almost midnight and very cold outside. I think you might as well stay the night."

Beverly laughed softly, and this time Alana could feel the laughter shivering gently between them.

"Well, why the heck not?"

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> For the next fic in this little series of mine, I was thinking of doing Freddie Lounds/Frederick Chilton but any suggestions of niche pairings are very welcome!
> 
> hotdadwillgraham.tumblr.com


End file.
